


Hell Kitties I

by vamptastica, Xela



Series: Hell Kitties [2]
Category: Hello Kitty - All Media Types, Supernatural
Genre: Crack, M/M, Prank Wars, Sex Toys, Under-negotiated Kink, please do not underestimate the crack, so much crack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-14
Updated: 2019-06-14
Packaged: 2020-05-07 11:14:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19208248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vamptastica/pseuds/vamptastica, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xela/pseuds/Xela
Summary: Sam's so excited by the Christmas gifts he got Dean.  They're a matched set. Perfect.  And pink.





	Hell Kitties I

**Author's Note:**

> Vamps and Xela would like to thank the Academy for not hauling them off in straight jackets. (And if you wonder why our com looks so...pink...well, it's NOT because we like Hello Kitty.)
> 
> **Disclaimer:** We are not responsible for your mental health. We ARE the Queens of all we survey, though it amuses us to let others think they 'own' things.

It all started with a wanna-be goddess and her murderess moppets of evil doom. Not the worst way to spend Christmas, but human sacrifice for immortality...messier than they really wanted to deal with. They needed brand new guns, untouched and blessed by a priest. Basically, it was an excuse to buy new fire power.

And then Sam got an Idea. This was Christmas, and he owed Dean a couple of presents. The season of giving and all that. And it was only efficient to combine the hunt, Christmas gifts, and an awesome prank all in one go. This was like, the perfect storm of all time.

So Sam, like any good brother, went to the end of the Internets looking for the Perfect Gift. His brother deserved the best. Sam waded into the unwashed masses, searched tirelessly through page after page, until he stumbled upon a Mecca of polka dots, pink, and twu wuv personified.

This hunt was going to be AWESOME.

Sam put in his credit card information and clicked 'buy.'

****

It was one of _those_ nights: dark, cold, pretty much dreary as fuck. Unless you were an overly excited Sam Winchester who made a 5 year old child hyped up on pixi sticks and jolt cola look exhausted.

"Jesus dude what the hell is up with you?" Dean asked, his expression half way between irritated and amused as he watched Sam twitch with excitement. "It's just a hunt man, try not to blow a gasket before we get there."

Sam grinned widely at his brother, dimples deep and all of his teeth gleaming. He drummed along to the hard rock beat, not even complaining about Dean's music selection. Dean rolled his eyes and tried to keep from smiling; Sam's enthusiasm was annoyingly infectious.

But seriously, mass murdering cult with delusions of godhood. They need to concentrate. Distracting dimples and over-caffeinated brothers got people killed or maimed. The had a job to do. Dean pulled up to the surprisingly suburban house and cut the engine.

“Time to get serious, Sammy,” Dean said. He felt a little bad at having to damped Sammy's good mood; Sam was so rarely carefree these days it seemed wrong to wipe the smile off his face.

“What's the game plan?” Sam asked, suddenly all business.

“Go in, kick ass, burn the bitch down.” Sam grinned at him again, more feral and dangerous, and Dean grinned back. Sammy bounded out of the car, all high energy and exuberant excitement. Sam popped the trunk and liberated his favorite shotgun, a .9MM and extra clips.

Dean climbed out of the Impala and moved to get his own gear, palming the keys. Sam primed his shotgun and grinned at him. Dean grinned back, the heat in his belly kicking up and they shared a Look. Sam stepped away from the trunk and pretended to examine his gun as he loaded it and checked it. Dean reached into the trunk's arsenal to arm up.

Sam started an internal countdown, trying to keep his smile under wraps. Four...three...two...

"DUDE!!!! WHAT THE FUCK?" Sam glanced over at Dean, who was staring down at the gun in his hands with a kind of twisted horror, with faux nonchalance .

“Something wrong, Dean?” Sam asked innocently. Hard green eyes pinned him in place; if looks could kill, Sam would be a tiny pile of finely ground ash.

“Where. The. **FUCK.** Are my GUNS, Sam?”

Sam craned his neck around the trunk and pretended to study the weapons Dean held away from him, as if they would bite or contaminate him. His shotgun was black with a light pink slide and stock, faux-fur on the knuckle guard and the top of the barrel. His handgun was a metallic lavender. Both of them were adorned with Hello Kitty emblems. 

"looks like them to me!" Sam said, grinning evilly. Dean turned dumbfounded eyes to Sam. "Merry Christmas, bro. And look! In your favorite color too!" Dean's bemusement morphed into pure, unadulterated anger. He glared at Sam, practically frothing at the mouth. 

"Where the HELL are my guns, SAM?"

Sam had time to think, _Oh, Shit_ , before Dean lunged for him. He barely sidestepped his brother's assault as he lunged forward. Sam danced away, struggling to keep the giant grin off his face.

"You don't like your presents? They're some of the best on the market. Even better than what you had. I wouldn't get you anything cheap, dude, you know that." He put on his innocent kicked-puppy face, letting his eyes go shiny and wet. He sniffed, eyes flicking from the Hello Kitty guns to Dean's face. Dean shifted, torn between being _blindingly angry_ and his urge to keep Sammy happy—even if it was from fake tears. 

A piercing scream sounded from the house and they didn't have time to argue about it anymore. Sam took off running, his normal-looking guns melding in with the darkness while Dean's glowed neon pink and purple. _Son of a bitch!_ These things had better work or Sammy was so very, very dead.

The boys burst through the door, guns cocked and ready. Moving stealthily, they canvassed and cleared the room, Dean's neon Kitty guns leading (and lighting) the way. Every time he caught sight of the stupid things his anger grew.

"I can't believe you gave me Hello Kitty guns, man. When we're done, Sammy, I am SO kicking your ass." Dean growled under his breath. Sam was still grinning like a loon, even in the face of potential danger. 

"Hey, " Sam whispered, "maybe the cult will see them and see the light. I'm told being touched by the Kitty is a deeply moving spiritual experience." Sam cut off Dean's response by motioning to the last closed doorway. There was candle light flickering under the door.

They burst through the door and into a sacrifice in progress. Six cult members surrounded a struggling man, bound and gagged on the floor. Sam and Dean toed the edge of the circle painted onto the floor, but a wall of power held them back.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Dean said with a disarming grin, “but do you think we could borrow a cup of sugar?” The cult leader, who hoped to gain immortality and powers beyond imagination with this poorly-executed ritual (seriously, their latin was horrendous), drew herself up to her terrifying full 5'3” height and glared at them. Dean and Sam took up position, guns leveled. The leader's eyes blazed a sickly green color and her skin seemed to shimmer with power. She wore a cheap costume cloak with gold lamé on it, and abruptly burst into Halloween-esque witchy cackles of glee. 

"Nice gun, Lips! Hello Kitty, a little fur for texture. What, standard black too manly for you?" The witch cackled again, and her minions joined in hollowly. 

"OH fuck this," Dean said and promptly shot the bitch in the head satisfied to see her crumple. No wanna-be badass with bad latin, a costume stolen from a Caesar's Palace show, and delusions of immortality got to laugh at him. Hello Kitty guns aside.

The rest of the cult, their faces twisted horribly and eyes empty, leapt to attack. Sam and Dean cut them down one by one, their guns deafening in the small room. The bound man screamed behind his gag as people fell dead around him, gore painting the walls. 

Dean whooped as another cultist feel, riddled with bullets. Despite the noxious colors that made Dean want to _gouge his eyes out,_ the shotgun was holding its own. Which pissed him off more than if it had jammed on him after the second shot.

Dean pumped the action and was distracted by the very pink shell that popped out.

“Hello Kitty _shotgun shells?_ ” Dean demanded, blasting another minion.

Sam glanced back at Dean as he moved to untie the guy, hauling him on his feet and hurrying him to the exit. Dean laid down cover fire and kept them from getting caught in the cross fire. The guy, naked as a jay bird, took off across the lawn as fast as his feet could carry him. 

Suddenly the room burst into bright green light. The cult leader miraculously stood up, the wound in her head healing over. Her hair danced out behind her in emerald waves, and her skin glowed bright gold as the gold lamé from her cloak melted into it. 

"You have dared to cross a Goddess. Now you must die!" It was said very dramatically and punctuated by flares of emerald power. Dean arched an eyebrow, completely unimpressed. He dropped his shotgun and pulled out his lavender glock.

“Hello Kitty says Die, Bitch.” He double tapped her head, and then her heart. She crashed to the ground. He tucked the Glock into his waist band and caught the bottle of holy water Sam threw him without looking. The woman's skin sizzled as he sprinkled her with the blessed water, muttering a power stripping incantation that combined latin (way better than the cult's), ancient Aramaic, and yiddish. He ignored the Hello Kitty shells and casings teasing the peripherals of his vision (note to self: Sam Winchester will die _begging_ ). He was a professional. He would get the job done and deal with Sam later.

Sam followed Dean outside snickering, "Hello Kitty says die bitch? And you say I'm the girl?" Dean flipped him the bird casually and kept moving towards the car. One more strike against Sammy.

"Where'd the guy go?" Dean asked scanning the dark yard for the prisoner. Sam looked around and shrugged, not seeing anyone.

"Hell, who knows? Maybe your neon kitties scared him off." Dean arched a brow at Sam. It was his only warning.

Sam let out a low curse as Dean tackled him to the ground, using his advantage to keep Sam from squirming away...though the squirming did wake up certain other parts of him.

“See, Sammy,” Dean said conversationally, one hand busy pinning Sam's arms above his head while the other one made short work of his belt and zipper. “The way I see it? You _owe_ me.” Sam gasped as two of Dean's fingers pressed into him, dry and insistent. “And I? I plan to collect.” Sam whimpered and pressed down against Dean's fingers, his cock starting to fill. Dean played him until Sam was hard and desperate, rutting against him in an attempt to find friction

"Or..." Dean said, a wicked smirk gracing his lips as he pulled his hand out of Sam's pants and gave him a loud smacking kiss on the forehead, "I'll collect later." 

Sam lay there gaping, dick throbbing. His entire fucking body wanted his brother, hummed and leaked for him, and he'd left Sam sprawled on the ground like a cheap prom dress after a quick fuck. This was SO not funny.

“Deeeeean,” Sam whined, rubbing himself through his pants. He could feel dirt gritting in his hair and leaves scratching at his neck, but he didn't care. “Come ON. It was just a little Christmas joke! It's not like they didn't work. DEAN!”

“I'm headed back to the motel. Feel free to walk back if y'like.” Dean let his evil smile out as he heard Sam cursing and trying to push himself off the ground. He had actually started the engine and begun rolling away before Sam scrabbled at the door and threw himself into the passenger seat.

“Jerk,” Sam sulked. His erection still pressed against the front of his pants.

"Bitch." Dean laughed as he peeled out of the driveway in burst of speed, the car fishtailing as they headed towards the hotel. Sam got some of his own back when he arched against the seat and started playing with himself, canting his hips towards Dean so he got a good view. The got to the hotel in record time.

As soon as the door to the room swung open, Dean found himself pressed hard against the cheap cactus-motif wallpaper, Sam breathing hot and heavy down his neck. He pressed himself against Dean's back, rubbing his cock against Dean's ass. 

"You wanna play games, big brother?" Sam asked. His voice dripped honey and had Dean's dick standing and doing a salute of its own.

“ **I** only wanted to take down some skeevy cult sacrificing innocents in the name of immortality,” Dean growled back, rubbing his ass against Sam's cock, distracting him enough that Dean could turn around and push Sam to the floor. He kissed Sam, all teeth and sharp edges, before pulling back, hand fisted in Sam's hair. “And then YOU had to go and _switch my guns_ and well. Can't let that go, now can I?” Dean latched on to Sam's neck, biting down hard and drawing blood up to form a rather impressive hickey. Sam whimpered, his hands moving over his brother's back, mindlessly shoving at his jacket because skin just wasn't coming fast enough. 

"Seems to me you like to be punished, Sammy." Dean purred into his ear as he slid one hand down to Sams crotch. He rubbed the palm of his hand over Sam's impressive bulge, squeezing and teasing. "Like me giving you a little lesson, like a little pain?" 

Dean tugged the hair he was grasping harder, pulling Sam's head back far enough to bare his throat and the bruise. He admired the vivid bloom of color on it, his mark. 

"So damned pretty, stretched out on your back for me, baby boy. " Sam yelped as Dean squeezed his erection, rutting against Sammy's thigh with sinful intent. Dean's mouth worried the tender skin of Sam's collar bone. This shirt had to go.

“Jesus fuck, Dean!” Dean smirked and ripped Sam's ridiculous button up down the center, plastic flying everywhere. He licked a wet trailed up Sam's chest, starting at the navel and ending at his Adam's apple.

As quickly as it began Dean rolled off of Sam. 

"On the bed with your ass in the air," Dean ordered, tugging his shirt up and over his head as he kicked his boots off. Sam hurriedly scrambled to do as he was told, and soon was naked on the bed with his head resting on his crossed arms in front of him. 

"Gonna fuck you blind," Dean promised, tossing his jeans and boxers aside. His cock, flush with blood, bounced against his stomach as he went to his duffel and rifled around for the condoms and lube. Sam moaned like a porn star and Dean fumbled with his box of Trojans. Sammy was opening himself with two spit-slick fingers.

“Christ, baby boy.” Sam chuckled and reached behind him to spread his cheeks wide, wiggling his ass and taunting Dean. Dean forgot how to breathe, staring at the sight.

“Come on, De. Know you want it. Fuck me!” Dean growled and ripped the condom open with his teeth, never taking his eyes off of Sam, who got tired of waiting and started fingering himself again. He quirked his fingers and found his prostate, eliciting a full-body quiver and high-pitched gasp from him.

“Holy...” Dean quickly slicked himself up and shuffled over to Sam. He took his cock in hand and positioned himself at Sam's entrance, ready to fuck him blind when—“WHAT THE FUCK? Are you SERIOUS?”

Sam looked over his shoulder and barked out a loud laugh when he saw Dean's cock sheathed in hot pink latex, a smiling Kitty on the very tip of his penis. He'd forgotten about those. Seeing Dean's eyes flare with irritation and revenge, Sam tried to get away. 

"Where the hell do you think you're going bitch?" Dean snarled, wrapping his arm around Sam's waist and tugging his ass back where it belonged. Dean soundly smacked it with and open palm, the slap reverberating in the small room. Sam cried out and buried his face in his hands, whimpering as Dean's hard hand smacked against his tender ass.

“You gettin' off on this, Sammy?” Dean asked, voice dangerous and low. “Switchin' my guns. Wrappin' my cock in cotton-candy pink KITTENS?”

“H-hello Kitty,” Sam gasped, unable to stop himself, even though he knew he was pushing Dean's limit. Sure enough, Dean growled and pulled Sam's arms from underneath him, leaving Sam's chest pressed to the bed, ass exposed, arms pinned beneath his back.

“I am not a five year-old girl,” Dean hissed, and punctuated his point with an unexpected thrust of his hips. Sam cried out at the penetration, body protesting the sudden breach, muscles giving way to Dean's girth. Dean pushed until he was flush with Sam's body, breathing harshly as his fingers dug into the firm muscles of Sam's arms. 

“Not even Hello Kitty can fuck with this,” Dean panted, leaning over Sam's back, and pressed even deeper into the hot flesh beneath him. He pulled out and drove back in, his skin slapping against Sam's. "Feel that Sammy? Feel how much of a girl I'm **not**?" 

"Y-yes! Jesus, yes, Dean!" Sam gasped, his face mashed into the cheap fabric of the motel bedspread. Damn he loved having Dean's cock inside him, hard and hot, no holding back or gentleness. And if it took a few well placed kitteny items then fuck, totally worth it. And funny. Dean didn't top near as often as Sam wanted him to. Some ill-placed big brother thing he was sure.

Sam grinned as Dean drilled him, moaning as his brother angled to hit his prostate. Guns and condoms weren't the only thing he'd ordered from Hello Kitty...

**Author's Note:**

> We'd apologize but we're SHAMELESS.


End file.
